Petals of the Sakura
by Dyna Dee
Summary: One shot. The mission was supposed to be easy, but something went horribly, unexpectedly wrong. Now one of the pilots is fighting for his life, and his friends will do whatever is necessary to help him survive.


**The Petals of the Sakura  
**By: Dyna Dee  
Warnings: I'm sure there are some, but I can't think of any at the moment.

Wearing a dingy surgical-type mask over his nose and mouth, the slight-of-build teenage boy stood resolute in front of a stranger's door. He compared the rusty metal numbers to the right of the home's entrance with those in his left hand, written on the roughly torn slip of paper. Yes, the numbers matched, so he reached forward and soundly knocked on the faded blue painted front door, then stepped back and waited. Without thinking his fingers began tapping against his thighs and he shuffled his feet back and forth, impatient for someone to answer. A half turn allowed him to glance back at the street behind him to scan the immediate area. As expected, no one was there.

He couldn't help feeling exposed being out in the open like he was, despite the deserted street and the fact that a good portion of his face was concealed behind the filtering mask. Being paranoid had become as natural to him as tying his shoes the moment he put them on in the morning. There was no one else on this street, and the same could be said of the other streets in this small city of frightened people. During the past couple of weeks following the mission debacle, the local citizenry had only dared to venture out of their homes one at a time, obeying the government's edict not to congregate and to only leave their safe haven if there was a dire need, like his was today.

The small dot on the map that he and his two friends happened to be stuck on was located on a broad prairie. It had the misfortune of being located next to the plant he and his friends had, for a better word, decommissioned. The result of that mission had turned this once thriving community to a virtual ghost town overnight; its businesses were closed and the residents had shut themselves away in what, they could only pray, was the safety of their homes.

The door in front of the boy finally opened slowly and with apparent hesitation, just a crack, enough to allow him a view of one brown eye topped by a heavy eyebrow of the same color yet speckled with gray. That single eye blinked at him.

"What do you want?" a gruff male voice asked from inside the ramshackle building.

"Mr. Lembek?"

"That's me. Who are you?"

Straightening his posture the boy looked the man straight in the eye. "My name is Max Winston. You don't know me because my mom and I moved here only a couple of weeks ago."

"Bad luck for you," the man chuckled without any real humor. Obviously there was very little to be happy about.

"Uh... yeah." Then taking a deep breath, the boy continued. "My mom was out of town the day the plant blew up so my cousin, his friend and I are pretty much on our own. One of them came down with _it_. Our phone hadn't been set up yet, so she can't call me. Our landlord, Mrs. Halsey, said you had a computer. I was wondering if I could use it to send a message to my family about what's happening here and to let them know that we're still alive."

"Can't you just use Hannah's phone?" The man asked, obviously suspicious.

"I don't know where my mom went after they established the quarantine and there's no way they'd let her come back here. But she does have an e-mail address I can write to. I'm sure she'll get my message if I can just get to a computer. Please, Mister, I don't want her thinking I'm dead."

"Are you sure you don't have a fever, any symptoms or marks on your body?"

"I checked just before I left the apartment. Honest. I'm not sick."

There was a pause before the man reluctantly stepped back, saying, "Just keep your mask on, all right?" He pulled the door open but just wide enough for the slender youth to slip in.

Now that the boy got a good look at the man, who towered over his more compact form, he remembered seeing him around town when he and his two comrades had scouted out the nearby factory that was to blame for their current situation. Jack Lembek was a very large man, easily three hundred plus pounds. He was neat and tidy in appearance, with a full head of short brown hair that was graying at the temples. He wore a loosely fitted, blue sweat jacket over a button-down, blue plaid shirt that was tucked into the waistband of his large khaki pants which stretched tautly against the barreled belly and then fell much more loosely round his legs. The man's round face was tan and stubbled with brown and gray whiskers, and in spite of the frown the man wore, the boy could detect no apparent meanness in him, just as Mrs. Halsey had said.

Mr. Lembeck studied him in return, starting with his face. The boy could only hope his expression of nervous gratitude was appropriate for the part he was playing. The man's eyes quickly moved downward, taking in his black quilted down vest, his red T-shirt with some innocuous logo about a local festival printed on the front, his worn jeans and black, battered boots.

"You've no other family here in town?" the man asked, one bushy eyebrow rising in question.

"Like I said, I got a cousin and his friend staying with me. They arrived the day before the shit hit the fan. My cousin's friend came down with the fever two days ago. He's really sick and I'm hoping my mom can get word to his family."

"You're taking care of him by yourself?" Mr. Lembek looked seriously concerned.

"Yeah. There's not a lot of volunteers around here when someone comes down sick. Mrs. Halsey offered, but she's an old lady and we don't want her getting sick on account of us."

The man's face softened, though his voice retained a trace of nervousness when he asked, "Do you have enough food and medical supplies?"

"For the time being," the boy answered, his eyes shifting around the interior of the man's home noting that it was neat and tidy, like the man himself. He wondered for a moment at the contrast between the home's interior and the worn exterior. "My cousin went down to the armory when the last shipment came in from the government. He got what he could, but he's kind of small and couldn't carry a lot. There's enough food for another week and medicine to help his friend."

"How is the other boy? Is it as bad as they described on the news?"

The boy paused and the sound of his hard swallow was audible. "It's bad," he said, his voice low. "His fever is really high, even though we've tried to keep it down. We're thinking the spots are going to show up any time now. He's really weak, which isn't like him at all, and his head and back hurt even with the pain pills the government doctors issued us."

"I'm sorry," the man said with sincerity, then his fists tightened at his side. "I worked at the plant, you know," he growled angrily. "It supported most of the townspeople. We thought we were manufacturing environmentally safe pesticides for farming and preservatives used for the rations the military supplies their troops. We had no idea that another part of the plant, the sealed off section, was secretly making chemical weapons. We're damn well paying for our ignorance now, aren't we?"

The boy looked down at his boots, unable to bear the man's self- recrimination for the town's current dilemma when he and his friends shared some of the responsibility and guilt for what had happened.

He used the man's computer to contact Heero, letting he and Trowa know that Wufei had become ill.

He walked back to the apartment a short while later with only his thoughts to keep him company. Going over the past few weeks, he was amazed how quickly things had turned on them so that now they'd found themselves in a life and death struggle.

Their mission was supposed to be a relatively simple one. Their objective had been to infiltrate and hack into the computer system of one of the least protected supply manufacturers for OZ. Heero was certain this would be the least detectable way of gaining access to the enemy's computer systems and siphoning whatever data they could get their hands on. They desperately needed to know what armaments were being shipped to troops stationed in the colonies and any future plans for suit deployment from Earth.

Duo wasn't as accomplished at computer hacking as the boy from L1, but he was still pretty damn good. That went double for his infiltrating skills and, more specifically, breaking and entering. He went into the mission confident about their success. Having gathered all the information they needed to proceed, he, Wufei and Quatre snuck into the main building in the wee hours of the morning, dressed from head to toe in black, with all but their eyes covered. The mission itself seemed relatively easy and there shouldn't have been a problem. But no sooner had he gained access to a computer located on the day manager's desk and hacked into the first off-site system, he heard a commotion outside the office door. Moments later an urgent message came from Wufei that Quatre had been discovered and injured. The situation was quickly turning sour.

The locals who made up the plant's security appeared shocked by the discovery of an unfamiliar, gun-toting teenager in their plant late at night. Businesses dealing with OZ had been warned to be on the look out for the notorious gundam pilots, describing them as teenagers who would sooner pull the trigger of a gun, killing anyone who had seen them, rather than risk being captured.

To summarize the whole messy incident, Quatre, who had been standing guard at the end of the corridor, had been shot while engaged in a struggle with a large civilian over his gun, just a graze on the side of his head, but it was enough to knock the boy down and create a bloody mess. Having heard the altercation over his headset, Wufei left his position, guarding their escape route, with the intent to assist Quatre. He managed to radio the situation to him.

Duo had only meant to cause a distraction when he placed a small amount of C4 against a weight-bearing wall before running to help his friends. Wufei had reported that he and Quatre were surrounded by nervous and frightened-looking employees and two security guards. Duo hadn't known at the time that depressing the simple red button on his handheld remote would have more of an impact than he'd ever intended.

The explosion shook the building just as he reached his friends. The plant's workers, civilians who lived in the nearby town, cried out in alarm and bolted for the nearest exit. But it was the abject fear on the remaining security guards' faces that struck Duo as odd. He wouldn't understand what that look meant until it was much too late.

Aiming his gun at the feet of the uniformed men who remained behind, he'd let off a few shots in warning. "Run or die!" he'd shouted, hoping they'd take the first option.

Two of the three men did as he ordered, but one man remained in place, abject fear written on his face. "We're probably dead already," he gasped before he too turned and fled. Though he was puzzled by the man's parting statement, he moved forward to help his comrades. Wufei was in the process of picking up Quatre's limp body. Together they managed to carry the slight teen out of the now nearly empty building.

Once outside, a strange odor filled the air, separate from the smell of C4, dust and smoke. He'd chalked it up to being some of the chemicals burning up from where the explosion had occurred. If that was the case, he hoped none of the chemicals were toxic. Though it was dark and they were rushing to hustle Quatre to the stolen car, he had noticed streams of people and cars racing out of the parking lot towards the direction of the town, less than half a mile away.

They skirted around the fleeing factory workers unnoticed, hidden by their black clothing and the moonless night, and finally reached the jeep. Once Quatre was settled in the back, they sped off with their headlights off, paralleling the road the other cars were taking in an effort to escape the plant. Having reach the town, they'd left the rugged terrain for a paved street, then slowed the jeep and proceeded at a moderate rate to the safehouse they had never thought to see again.

Once they were inside the apartment, they quickly doctored Quatre's head wound and removed all the blood and stained clothing it had produced. The blond pilot had awakened while in the car, but was woozy and incapable of standing much less making his way up the stairs to the apartment without help. Because Quatre had been temporarily incapacitated, he and Wufei decided they would hunker down in the apartment until morning and hope OZ wouldn't initiate a door-to-door search of the town looking for them. Having made that decision, they spent the rest of the night and the next morning taking turns keeping watch as well as waking Quatre every hour.

From the window of the two-story apartment Duo had been able to keep an eye on the activity on the street below, which appeared to be normal despite the fact that there had been trouble at the plant during the night. Quatre remained in bed, suffering from a debilitating migraine.

Duo had offered to go to the nearby store to replenish their supplies, figuring that with his hair tucked out of sight he'd stand out less than Wufei since there didn't seem to be many Asians living in the small, remote town. Their cupboards were relatively bare because they had planned on abandoning the safehouse on completion of their mission, but with Quatre's injury, it looked like they would be there for a while, at least until the blond could tolerate opening his eyes. Obtaining fresh supplies had become a necessity.

By noon that day everything had changed in the little town. Government cars, trucks and armored vehicles thundered down the streets, bringing men and women in environmental suits into the small community. Wufei, having been on watch, alerted them that something was afoot.

Together they quickly went over their cover story, and when a solid knock sounded on the door, Wufei motioned the other two to stay back, took a deep, calming breath and calmly answered. He was greeted by the sight of a white bio-hazard suit with a government logo over the right breast. The round, blue and yellow badge boldly declared that the man was a part of the Environmental Protection Agency, chemical weapons division. He shoved a ten-page pamphlet into Wufei's hand and informed him that the town was under quarantine. He respectfully demanded the name of the apartment's occupants, their ages and nearest relative. Wufei gave them the bogus information that had been previously set up for their cover, knowing it would be verified by Heero in the event of an inquiry for verification on the internet or if a phone call was placed to the numbers they supplied. They were then informed that the government would be supplying the town's citizenry with food and medical equipment, and that supplies could be picked up at the local armory. They were told quite sternly to stay indoors as much as possible and alert the men dressed in the white suits at the armory if any of them displayed the symptoms listed in the pamphlet. Without another word the government worker turned and left, leaving the three youths with a multitude of questions.

Wufei closed the door and joined the other two boys on the sofa. Together they poured over the information that gave them an explanation for the odd activity. Paper clipped to the front of the booklet was a folded letter which Wufei opened and the three silently read the contents together.

Mutated pox. The two words sent a shiver up the spines of all three pilots.

The official government letter stated that the nearby plant had been secretly working on a vaccine for a contained bio-chemical weapon, created during the AC 75 wars. It had reportedly been banned from being produced after it had been released during a battle between warring countries in Africa. Its effects had been devastating, horrifying the rest of the world after major news agencies across the globe and the colonies began reporting on the massive numbers of the dead and dying.

A shocking discovery made by a news agency broke the story of a recent purchase by several countries from another government desperate to save its failing economy. The report sent fear and alarm amongst world leaders and countries surrounding those alleged countries who'd purchased the despicable weapons. The Alliance had contracted several bio-chemical engineers and companies who had the ability to work with highly toxic chemicals to begin working on a vaccine, which had meant that canisters of the engineered disease had been stored in the nearby chemical plant. This had been the secret project behind the security walls of the plant, a project only a handful of people had known about.

The braided boy's heart sunk with guilt, realizing his explosive device had been the catalyst for releasing a deadly disease and exposing the plant's workers and the townspeople as well. The mutated pox was a plague, bringing to Duo's mind grim memories and a deep feeling of dread, reminiscent of his days on the streets of L-2.

The afternoon after their attack, the three teens sat huddled together on the large green sofa-bed in the one bedroom apartment and poured over the information printed in the black and white pamphlet. The time for being inoculated with the vaccine to prevent getting the fearful mutated pox, a variation of small pox, had passed, if indeed there had been any vaccine left after the explosion. Together they carefully studied the list of symptoms, reading about an incubation period of twelve to twenty days. The symptoms included a dangerously high fever, fatigue, head and back aches, and then the rash that would follow, turning into pustules that would burst and become crusty, forming scabs that would fall off about three to four weeks later... if the infected person survived to that point.

"If we can make it to our gundams we can get the hell out of here," Duo said as he tugged on his long braid.

"No, we can't," was Quatre's somber reply as he closed his eyes and brought his hand up to the bandage on the left side of his aching head. "We were exposed just like the rest of this town's citizens. It would be wrong for us to carry this disease to some unsuspecting community should we be infected. We'll ride it out here, where there's medical care."

"I agree," Wufei added. "I would not live with knowing we inadvertently infected more innocents."

"What are the chances that we'll get it?" Duo asked, sounding as worried as he felt. He'd lived through one plague, he didn't know if he'd be so lucky a second time.

"If I remember right," Wufei began thoughtfully, "the original small pox was spread by saliva, which is why it was easy to eradicate centuries ago. But with the engineered strain, I wouldn't doubt that it was engineered to be contracted in another manner. Seeing that the government is alarmed sufficiently enough to send the EPA, they might have been working with a strain that is airborne. That smell and moisture that filled the air after the explosion might have been how it was dispersed."

"Did you guys receive a series of inoculations before Operation Meteor began?" asked the blond teenager. "I was vaccinated against every possible disease before I was allowed to leave L-4."

The braided boy nodded. "I got a bunch of shots from Professor G shortly after he took me in. I could hardly move for a week."

The two looked to their Chinese friend who avoided their gaze as he answered the question. "I took my gundam in an impulsive moment, after I learned L-5 was the colony chosen to be dropped on Earth as part of Operation Meteor. I was a student, more interested in books and rules of law and matrial arts than fighting in a mobile suit." He raised his dark eyes to look worriedly at his friends. "I received only the normal childhood vaccinations of my colony."

A look of fear flashed in the eyes of the other two boys. Duo took the pamphlet out of Wufei's hands and went on to read out loud about how to treat the disease. There was no guarantee that he and Quatre were immune to the mutated pox, but it was pretty clear that Wufei was the one they would have to watch closely.

And so they waited.

Fifteen days slowly dragged by after the mission, and on that last morning Wufei woke up early with a fever that quickly rose dangerously high. He could hardly move himself from the bed to the small bathroom and only managed it with assistance. By that afternoon he'd become delirious, thinking he was back on L5 and arguing in Chinese some with some unidentified girl.

After seeing to Wufei's needs, Quatre had run to the city's armory to report that one of them had contracted the disease. From the harried medical staff, now dealing with an onslaught of reports regarding outbreaks, one man, dressed in the protective gear, listened as Quatre listed Wufei's symptoms and gave the blond not only a look of sympathy, but also directions on how to treat his afflicted friend. He was sent back to the apartment with fever-reducing medication as well as pain relievers and a cream that would help with the rash that would undoubtedly come in a few days time.

Having arrived back at the duplex from his errand to Mr. Lembek's, Duo entered the house and looked up the staircase that led to their apartment with mixed feeling. Though he was anxious for his friend's welfare, and wanted to run up and see how he was doing, another part of him wanted nothing more than to turn around and run for his gundam. He shook his head, knowing his two friend were upstairs and that they needed him, just as much as they did in a heated battle. The fight for Wufei's life was as desperate as any battle he'd engaged since his arrival on Earth, and he never entered a battle believing he was going to lose. With a deep breath and a firm resolution, he climbed the stairs, prepared to do whatever was necessary to save the Chinese boy's life.

He entered the door to the familiar scene of the sofa bed pulled out and Wufei lying in it, deathly still and with Quatre by his side. Duo gave the blond a nod, telling him without words that he'd been successful in contacting the other two pilots. He took off his cap and jacket, freed his braid from under his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, ready to help.

The two apparently immune gundam pilots exchanged a worried glance as they worked together to ease Wufei's discomfort. With torn-up towels dipped in tepid water and wrung out, they cooled the Chinese teen's body, which glistened with sweat from the raging fever that persisted despite their use of available drugs. Wufei murmured in a low voice every now and then, and both teens hovered at his side, clinging to the sounds he made, finding the indecipherable words preferable to the suffering boy's bouts of absolute silence.

Quatre gently wiped Wufei's heated brow with a cool cloth and whispered quiet assurances to the restless sleeper while Duo took a moment to study the blond whose face was pinched with worry and fear. As far as he knew, Quatre had never really seen suffering at this level before and it was clearly upsetting him that there was very little they could do to help Wufei. As for himself, he'd seen this kind of suffering far too many times. Solo and the rest of their gang had contracted the plague on L2, and despite all his efforts all of them had died. He'd experienced unbearable heartbreak during those dark days. The loss he'd suffered at such a young age had been soul numbing and it was something he'd hoped never to experience again. And yet here he was again, watching as another friend came closer each hour to the very edge of death.

Wufei's body suddenly jerked and his eyes flew open and searched the area around them. "My back, it hurt," he whispered.

"It's alright, Wufei," Quatre cooed in a soothing voice. "Duo and I are here."

The Chinese teen calmed slightly and focused briefly on Quatre's face before he looked in Duo's direction. "Are you ill?" he asked the braided boy, his voice scratchy and weak.

Duo shook his head. "No."

"You both look terrible. Take a nap or something."

That criticism had been so much like his friend, that the braided teen managed a weak smile, thinking that Wufei always like to tell him what to do. Duo glanced at Quatre and noticed for the first time in days that the blond looked exhausted, pale and about ready to collapse. He could only imagine that he looked just as bad. No wonder Wufei thought they were sick.

"Are you hungry or thirsty?" asked Quatre.

"Yes."

Duo went into the kitchen to warm up one of the cans of soup they'd been given by the government workers, and while it was heating he removed a cold can of protein drink from the refrigerator and took it into the living room. Approaching the bed, he overheard Wufei speaking with some effort to their blond friend.

"Tell Master Long of my demise and that another should be chosen to fight with the gundam."

Quatre looked like he was about to cry. "No, Wufei. You shouldn't think that way. You're not going to die, you're too strong to succumb to a virus."

"This is much more than a virus," Wufei answered weakly.

"And you're much more than a helpless teenager," Duo cut in as he sat on the edge of the bed. He helped to lift Wufei's shoulders from his reclining position while Quatre piled their pillows being his back for support. Once he resettled, Duo had helped the extremely ill boy drink the nutritious drink. Taking one slow sip at a time, Wufei eventually managed to drink half of the can before he signaled that he'd had enough.

Quatre then rose and disappeared into the kitchen to check on the soup. Duo had remained by Wufei's side and watched as the seriously ill boy turned his face towards the window. Duo followed his line of sight to see what he found so interesting. The only thing truly visible outside of the second storey window had been the sky and the branches of a tree in the backyard. The tree was devoid of leaves this time of the year, but abundant pink petaled flowers that covered otherwise bare branches bore evidence that Spring was on its way.

"It's like a sakura tree," Wufei whispered with longing in his voice.

"What's that?" Duo wondered, eyes narrowing as he looked out the window to see what the other boy was talking about.

"The tree, it's similar to the cherry trees of Japan."

"Ah. Well, I guess cherry trees grow all over the world."

"Beautiful," the sick boy sighed. His eyelids began to close, but Duo noticed the dark orbs beneath them stayed fixed on the tree.

"Have you ever read the stories by O. Henry?" Wufei had been a scholar before the war started up. Duo recalled that whenever the pilots were together in a safehouse, he often found his Chinese comrade immersed a book. He could only guess that Wufei was referring to one of those books he'd read. If not, he had no idea what he was talking about.

"No, I haven't."

There was a long pause, and then Wufei whispered, "I don't think that I'm going to make it, Duo."

"Of course you are," Duo assured him with a smile that was meant to dismiss his gloomy outlook, but inside he had the same fears and doubts as his very ill friend. He gazed thoughtfully at Wufei and there was no doubt about it, he looked terrible. Though he and Quatre had been doing their best, he had to admit that they really knew jack shit about diseases like the one their fellow pilot had contracted. Hell, he and Quatre could still come down with it, he thought grimly. "You're tough, Wufei. You've just gotta hang in there."

A weak lift of the corners of his mouth came with Wufei's next sentence. "I'll do my best, Duo, but I don't know. I... I will try to remain, at least until the last petal falls from the sakura."

"What?" He wasn't sure what Wufei meant by that statement, but the other boy didn't elaborate, remaining silent instead with his head turned towards the window and his half-lidded eyes fastened on the flowering tree.

Quatre came back a couple of minutes later with a full bowl of soup set on a dinner plate. It took the both of them to coerce Wufei into eating a total of six spoonfuls. He fell asleep a short while later, his face turned to the window that framed the tree branches outside.

Both boys went into the kitchen and while Duo took over the chore of washing up the dishes, his blond friend sat at the small kitchen table, his hands folded together and resting on the table top while he silently fretted. After Duo finished his simple chore, he wiped his hands off and joined Quatre at the table, noting the furrow that had formed between his friend's eyes. "I'm worried, Duo."

"Me too."

Quatre looked up and studied the long-haired boy's face, but said nothing further.

"Have you ever read a story by O. Henry?" Duo asked, still trying to figure out Wufei's cryptic words.

"I'm familiar with a couple of his short stories. Why?"

"Wufei mentioned it after he looked out the window and saw the tree outside. It's a cherry tree in bloom, or that's what he thought. He also said something like he'd stay until the last petal fell. I have no idea what he meant by that."

Quatre gave him a quizzical look and looked like he didn't know what Wufei meant either. "Something about that rings a bell. If I had a computer I would probably find something about it. It's too bad we left ours back in our gundams."

Duo nodded his head. Their mission was supposed to be a relatively easy, meaning no gundams. The three of them had left their more obvious partners in war hidden, hoping to be a bit more subtle in their attack. He'd cursed himself several times over for not having brought even one computer with them. "I could probably go back to Mr. Lembek's place and ask to use his computer."

"Do you think he'll let you in again?" Quatre asked doubtfully.

The braided boy shrugged. "He seemed sympathetic, if not friendly. It doesn't hurt to ask."

Quatre nodded in agreement and five minutes later Duo was out the door and tracing his steps to the older man's house.

He returned a half hour later with a handful of papers in his hands. "I got it," he announced triumphantly.

"That's it?" Quatre asked as his eyes focused on the papers. "It's not very long, is it?"

"No, it's a short story. Come here, we'll read it together."

And so the two of them sat on the floor with their backs against the wall and side by side to read what was on the sheets of computer paper. They finished reading at nearly the same time and both boy looked turned to look, with no small amount of trepidation, at flowering tree outside their window. With the wind having picked up that morning, they noted the delicate petals were already falling off the tree and that bits of greenery were beginning to peek out from where some of the blossoms had been.

"I think we're safe," Quatre said quietly. "If Wufei was referring to this story, then he's trying to hold out until the last petal falls. The tree is full of blossoms so it's probably going to take a long time for all of them to drop. By then he'll be better."

Duo hoped he was right, because unlike the story, there was no brick wall behind the tree to paint fake flowers on and, besides that, he didn't know how to paint.

The next morning the dreaded rash appeared on what was once smooth, unblemished skin. It spread at an alarming rate. Neither Duo nor Quatre voiced their discomfort, but it was clear that they were both a bit squeamish about applying the lotion the medical people had given them onto each and every spot. Duo felt sorry for Wufei, knowing that if he were in the Chinese boy's position, he'd be embarrassed as hell if someone had to remove all his clothing to apply the medicine to his spotted body. But the stoic Chinese teen was too miserable to complain about modesty. He did complain, though, that his skin felt like it was on fire and it itched as if he were laying on a bed of fleas. Despite his promise not to scratch, the damnable itching got the better of him and his caretakers found it necessary to bind his hands to keep him from shredding his skin.

Wufei crying was not something either teen had ever thought they'd ever see, and witnessing his breakdown and misery, knowing there was little they could do to help, had the both of them feeling utterly helpless. They administered a sedative to their suffering friend so he could sleep, and once he fell under its influence Duo heard a sniff come from the other side of the bed.

Looking up, he saw Quatre standing on the other side of the bed, his face wet with tears. Duo wasn't unaffected by their friend's suffering, but he'd somehow managed to hide his emotions better than his blond buddy. Moving around the bed, he put his arm around Quatre's shoulders and led him into the kitchen area.

He leaned closer to his friend to whisper, "It's okay, Quatre. Wufei's strong, he's gonna make it."

The blond nodded as he sat down on one of the four chairs. He seemed reluctant to speak, and Duo guessed it was because he thought he might lose what remained of his self control if he did. The braided teen believed the best remedy for their anxiety was to keep busy. "Why don't you go down to the medical center and see if you can get some more ointment. I'm sure they'll give us whatever we need."

"Okay," the other boy answered, jumping to his feet, obviously wanting to escape the apartment. He turned quickly away from Duo and dashed for the front door. The braided boy understood his friend's need to escape, not only from him, afraid he'd judge him for crying, but from Wufei's suffering as well. Duo had to admit that seeing his friend in so much agony was hard to take.

He coped in his own way by staying in the kitchen for awhile, avoiding having to look on the red, blistered skin of his comrade. He just prayed that for Wufei's sake he wouldn't scar too badly.

That night the three boys were awakened from their slumber by the sound of thunder crashing over the apartment. In the next brilliant flash of light, Duo shot a glance in the momentarily brightened room to see Quatre staring at the cherry tree outside the window. He followed his gaze and waited. When the next delayed flash of lightning brightened the night, they both witnessed the thrashing of the tree's branches from the strong wind, and that the branches of the cherry tree were being beaten about and the delicate pink petals were rapidly falling off. "Shit," Duo muttered under his breath. Quatre must have heard him, for in the next lightning strike Duo could see his blond friend staring at him, and the worry that he saw on Quatre's face mirrored his own feelings.

After that, the night seemed cruelly long, but eventually Duo finally fell in to an unrestful sleep. When he woke up the next morning, much later than usual, he immediately turned his sleepy eyes to the window. The sky was gray and overcast from the storm system that lingered over the misfortunate valley. Quatre was already up and standing by the window, his bedding forgotten on the floor next to Wufei's sick bed. Duo got out of his own make-shift bed to join him. Moving to stand just behind the tousle-haired blond, he looked over his shoulder to see that the night's storm had taken its toll on the tree outside. Most of the hundreds of delicate pink petals now lay on the ground, beaten down by the heavy rain. There were only a few blossoms left intact on the tree, maybe a dozen.

"What are we going to do?" Quatre worriedly asked without looking back at him, his eyes fixed on the dramatically changed tree.

"I'll think of something, okay?"

The blond boy turned to look at him, and blue green eyes were filled with doubt and fear. Duo wanted to reassure his friend but he really had no idea on how to stop the last of the blossoms from succumbing to their natural order. He was saved from saying anything more when a moan came from the bed and both boys moved to Wufei's side as he opened his eyes.

"Morning!" Duo chirped, faking the appearance of both hope and happiness, which was sadly lacking at the moment. Wufei's eyes moved past him and focused on the tree outside the window.

"The storm," he said, his voice weak and barely audible.

"Yeah, it was a pretty good one, wasn't it?" Duo asked cheerfully. "Personally, I like all that thunder and lightning. Not that I want to be out in it," he rushed to add. "We sure don't have anything like that on the colonies, do we?"

If Wufei heard him, he chose not to answer.

Quatre was the one to speak up next, obviously trying to help. "The force of nature is a powerful thing. In Saudi Arabia, we don't have many storms like the one we had last night, but we have wind storms that would frighten even Heero. You'll both have to come to the desert one day and experience a sandstorm."

Duo chuckled, still hoping to keep the conversation light, "No thanks, Quat. I don't mind visiting and all, but I've seen movies about the desert sandstorms and I think I'll take thunder and lightning any day."

"They're gone." Wufei's voice was but a whisper, yet the other two teens were so in tune to every sound and movement he made that they picked up on it immediately. They knew exactly what Wufei meant and their eyes followed the afflicted boy's gaze to the window where the tree, full of blossoms the day before, was now nearly bare.

"No, Wufei," Quatre moved to sit at the head of the sofa bed and began to stroke the loose black hair, hoping to sooth their friend in the only way he knew how. "The storm did blow many of the blossoms to the ground, but there are still some left, showing that something as delicate as a flower can have an amazing fortitude. They are strong enough to survive even the harsh storm we had last night. It's really quite phenomenal, isn't it? That something so delicate can withstand such a powerful force."

Quatre was obviously trying to build up Wufei's belief that even weak things could survive something destructive. From the angle that Wufei was looking out the window, Duo guessed that now there were only five partial blossoms in view. And even as they gazed at them, one precious petal came loose and fell.

"Almost gone."

That weakly spoken phrase didn't bode well with the other two boys, who exchanged a worried glance. Duo looked down at Wufei then knelt at the side of the bed so that he could look into the pain-filled eyes. Once the Chinese teen focused on him, he said in a firm voice, "You will not give up, Wufei. That's an order, do you hear me? You will make it through this because you're strong, you represent the best of your colony, and you're a goddamn gundam pilot. We just don't lie down and die. You got that?"

Remaining fixed on the dark, unfocused eyes, Duo tried to look past the dozen nasty looking spots on the stricken boy's face. Wufei was fortunate, he thought, to have most of those spots on his temples and only a couple on his cheeks. The majority of the spots were centered on his torso and back. He hoped Wufei wouldn't be left with any visible disfiguring scars as a result of this illness.

"I'm sorry," was whispered back in a voice filled with pain and regret. That was not what Duo wanted to hear from him. Once more Wufei's eyes were searching beyond him, looking for the last few blossoms.

"Hey, Quat? After we get Wufei's needs taken care of, can you handle breakfast? There's an errand I need to run."

Before the other boy could ask where he was going in the ghost town they were stuck in, Duo motioned for him to hold his questions. Quatre caught on and nodded his head, but the light of curiosity remained in his eyes as he answered casually, "Sure, Duo. Do you want me to save you something?"

"Just some toast and coffee. I'll have it when I get back."

And so they began the task of undressing their friend, applying the anti-itch cream to each and every red mark they found. Unfortunately, there were more on his body than there had been the day before. The left side of Wufei's body looked liked one huge raised rash instead of individual sores. It was hard to tell if applying the white cream was causing him pain or if it was helping with the itch he complained of, so they hurried through the task as quickly as possible, then dressed the suffering boy in loose clothing before covering him with a sheet. The chore seemed to exhaust Wufei physically while Duo felt emotionally drained. By the looks of it, so was Quatre.

As Wufei lay unmoving on the bed, his hands tied down again to keep him from clawing at his itching skin, an act that would leave irreparable scaring and maybe infection. Duo motioned to the blond that he was leaving and quietly exited the room. He had a mission to accomplish.

He first went to the landlady's apartment. Mrs. Halsey talked to him through the door, afraid that he carried some of his sick friend's germs. She didn't have what he needed so he went back to the only other person he'd met in that town, Mr. Lembek. Once again, the man was reluctant to open his door.

"How's your friend?" he asked suspiciously.

"He's broken out with the rash," Duo answered.

"Sorry to hear that."

"Which is why I'm here."

"Sorry kid, I can't let you in, the risk is just too great."

"That's okay, I'm actually looking for some instant glue. You got any?"

"What do you want it for?"

"To glue the petals of the cherry blossoms in place. The storm last night just about wiped the tree clean, and my sick friend somehow believes that once the last petal falls to the ground he can give up the fight and let go. I'm not about to let him give up like that."

"So you're going to glue the flower petals together?"

"Hell, I'll sew them together if I have to."

Mr. Lembek paused as he stood behind the door, one eye peeking through the slight crack in the door. "Wish I could help, kid, but I don't have anything like that. You might try the hardware store."

He knew the place the older man was talking about but was pretty sure, like everything else in town, it was closed. Not that a simple thing like a lock was going to be a problem. "Okay. I'll try that. Thanks Mr. Lembek." The door closed behind him as he turned to find the store, remembering it was on the far side of Main Street.

It only took ten minutes for him to walk to the hardware store, and though the town seemed deserted he could feel the many eyes of those hiding in their homes following him down the street as they hid behind closed curtains. He supposed the town's residents derived some false sense of safety locked up in their homes as they were. He couldn't help but hope they were safe and secure from the virus that was making his friend suffer.

Upon finding the store, he checked out the locks on both the front and back doors. There was some minimal security, nothing he couldn't override, so he immediately set to work, concentrating on the back door, where there was less of a chance of being watched. In less than two minutes he was inside the building; a piece of cake.

Locating what they needed, he estimated the cost then set the amount on the cash register with the bar code to let the owner know what had been taken. He figured the town had enough bad luck because of the explosion he'd caused. It just didn't feel right stealing from them, too.

With everything secured in a brown paper bag, he left the store, re-locking the back door, then ran back to the apartment noting the menacing dark clouds approaching from the north. Entering the front door of the apartment, he found Wufei sleeping fitfully, his bandaged hands secured away from his body. Quatre turned sad eyes to him at his entrance, and Duo could see the deep regret he felt for having had to restrict Wufei's movements. Even though it was for their friend's benefit, it seemed cruel to have to tie him down when he was so desperate to scratch the itch caused by the rash on his skin. Despite everything they'd tried to do for him, they couldn't seem to completely ease Wufei's discomfort.

"I gave him a sleeping pill," Quatre said quietly, a worried expression on his face. "But he's still suffering, even with the drugs." Duo figured things had to have been bad if he'd resorted to medicating their friend. Wufei, they all knew, hated being knocked out. "I crushed the pills and put them in his water." Ah, that explained how he did it.

The blue green eyes turned back to the window, to the tree that was sprouting more green than the day before, the leaves were beginning to emerge. From a side angle Duo saw the worry etched on Quatre's pale face as the blond stated, "Looks like rain again today."

Moving to the window, the braided teenager glanced at the darkening sky. An enormous, dark and angry looking cloud now completely blocked out the sun, causing the late morning sky to take on the appearance of twilight. His gaze shifted to the tree to see only a handful of blossoms were left. Lifting his hand he showed the blond the bag of goods he'd taken from the store.

Quatre nodded, understanding his intent and asked, "Do you want me to do it?"

"No, I'll go. I'm a good climber. I'd better get out there before it starts raining again." As if on cue, the dark and threatening cloud above the town flashed a brilliant forking bolt of lightning from within, and a few moments later the loud clap of thunder shook the building.

"Duo?" Quatre looked alarmed, but the braided boy didn't think his friend's fear was completely caused by the storm. Living in space, inside the protection of the thick titanium shells of the colonies, the only fluctuation in weather was hot and cold, dry or the occasional simulated rain shower that was used to cleanse the streets and buildings. Earth's fluctuating climate had come as a shock to a couple of the gundam pilots. Wufei and Quatre had been to Earth before, so they were a bit less impressed by the ever-changing and often unpredictable weather than Heero, Trowa or himself, who'd never left the colonies before Operation Meteor. He enjoyed the hell out of it all, the wind, rain, bright sunshine as well as clouds and the rising and setting of the sun. He didn't even mind the thunderstorms. In fact, as long as he was inside watching the light show and following thunder, he loved them. Going out into a thunderstorm and climbing a tree, however, was a whole other matter.

"If Wufei wakes up, make sure he doesn't see me in the tree, all right?"

"I don't think you shou..."

He cut his friend off, heading for the front door. "I'll be back before you know it." Pausing at the door to ease the blond's fears, he said over his shoulder, "Don't worry, Quat. I'll be okay." After giving his friend his most reassuring grin, he closed the door behind him, not able to tolerate the worry etched on the blond's face.

Once out of the front door, he pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck after feeling a few drops of water on his head. He jumped off the steps and hurried around to the back of the building. From the corner of his eye he spied Mrs. Halsey looking out from her dining room window at the coming storm. Her eyes widened with shock as she spotted him passing by. He gave her a quick wave of his hand before disappearing around the back of the house.

Another flash of light lit the sky a moment later, followed by a crack of thunder and sounding as if it had come from right above his position. His footsteps faltered as he approached the tree and he glanced up to the area he needed to climb to, which was level with the second storey window. For some reason, this didn't sound like such a good idea any longer. In the near distance the rain, falling in heavy sheets from the gray clouds, told him time was running out. The tube of glue clearly stated the surface he applied it to had to be free of moisture.

Without a moment to lose, he set his sight on the branch outside the window and the remaining blossoms and began the climb up the tree. All movement stopped, however, when another flash of lightning streaked across the sky. He was unsure whether or not he should hang onto the tree, knowing it could be a conductor for an electrical charge. The thunder was loud and seemed much, much too close for comfort. He took a deep breath, tucked away his fears and scrambled up to the branch he'd targeted. Reaching it, the braided teen looked across the open space between the branch and the apartment window. Quatre was dutifully standing behind the pane of glass, a few feet from his position, watching his progress. His forehead was pinched together indicating that his level of worry was escalating.

Duo looked away, not wanting to be distracted as he inched out onto the thinner part of the limb. He hadn't realized how fragile the branches were, and now that he was hanging fifteen or so feet above the ground, he began to feel uncertain about his plan. Pushing his doubts aside once more, he knew there really was no choice but to continue. He didn't know who was crazier, himself or Wufei. In his present delirious state, the Chinese pilot was letting some damn flowers determine his fate; and he was just crazy enough to climb out on a ridiculously little limb at the beginning of a thunderstorm to make sure those flowers remained visible until his fellow pilot felt better and came to his senses.

Several more drops of rain fell on his face, which he quickly brushed away with the cuff of his sleeve. Another flash and clap of thunder above froze him in place and he glanced up to the roiling dark clouds. "Could ya just help me out here a little bit?" he yelled to the heavens above. "I'm doin' a good thing here, if you can't tell. Give me a break, will ya?"

Moving within a couple of inches of the first delicate pink flower, he pulled the tube of glue out of his pocket and held it close to his face to read the instructions. He couldn't get his knife out to cut off the top without coming in danger of falling, so he had to bite it off with his teeth, praying to God he didn't get any of the glue on them. He'd hate to have his mouth glued shut and have to explain what had happened, knowing his explanation would sound close to insane.

Gratefully, the top came off and his mouth remained glue free. "Thank you!" he said in an over-exaggerated voice. Then stretching out his arm, he reached the first blossom and began to coat the lower part of flower with glue, where it met with the stem. Then for good measure he saturated the branch. He wasn't taking any chances. He then inched a little further out, unsure about whether or not the branch was going to be strong enough to hold his weight. He managed to glue several more flowers together when the rain finally began to fall in earnest. Within moments he was soaked in the heavy downfall. He recapped the glue, knowing any further attempt to affix the blossoms to the tree would be futile.

The next flash of lightning blinded him with its brightness, and the instant deafening clap accompanying it startled him so badly that he lost his grip on the limb. He heard Quatre cry out from behind the closed window as he fell, crashing though several lower limbs. Even though the branches he fell through helped to break the speed of his fall, the last one, eight feet from the ground, couldn't help him any further. He fell hard onto his side, the air knocked out of his lungs.

Once he got over the shock that he'd actually fallen out of the tree and had gotten his breath back, he did a quick mental check of his body. Fortunately, he didn't think anything was broken, just badly bruised. He'd definitely be feeling some pain tomorrow.

He slowly picked himself up while the rain continued to pelt him. He stood in the downpour to assess himself; he was nothing short of a mess: wet, muddy and with twigs sticking out at odd angles from his hair. Even though no one but Quatre had witnessed his fall, he felt embarrassed as all hell. He figured he was lucky that it was Quatre who'd seem his tumbling act and not one of the other pilots. He could count on the others to hold the embarrassing moment over his head and tease him unmercifully about it... but that would only happen if they heard about it from a certain blond. He had every intention of swearing Quatre to secrecy as soon as he got back to the apartment.

His left arm and leg ached as he limped his way back around to the front of the house. The moment he opened the door that led to the staircase, Mrs. Halsey was there to greet him, just outside her own door. "Are you all right?" she asked, clutching her pale green sweater together and tightly against her chest.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Halsey."

"What were you doing climbing the tree during a thunderstorm?" she

asked in a scolding manner that could only be called maternal.

"It's a long story," he replied, not really wanting to explain myself.

The old woman hesitated for a moment, and Duo hoped she'd say goodbye so he could go upstairs and get into some dry clothes.

"How's your friend doing?"

"Not good," he told her, trying not to show her how much his heart hurt in having to admit that.

"I made some soup from a couple of beef bones I had in the freezer. Would you like to take some up with you?"

He turned to look at the older woman and guessed she was in her seventies. She had white hair and eyebrows above faded blue eyes and her cheeks were lined with deep creases. Her back was stooped and she leaned on a cane, which added to her overall appearance of being thin and frail looking. She'd been nice enough to the three of them when they'd first arrived to claim the room they'd rented over the internet. Managing a smile, the soaking wet teen answered sincerely, "That would be great, Mrs. Halsey."

"Wait right there and I'll be back in a jiffy."

He stood in the entry, wet from head to toe and starting to feel the chill while waiting for the woman to return. The idea of a homemade meal was appealing enough to keep him from bolting up the stairs and jumping into a hot shower.

A few moments later the elderly woman came back with a covered pot. She held it out to Duo, her arms shaking just slightly from the weight of the pot's contents. She was trying hard not to look like she wasn't afraid of him getting close, so he made it a point to keep as much distance between them as he reached for the pot. She flinched slightly as their fingers brushed against each others in the transfer of the pot.

"I don't have the sickness," he told her, hoping to reassure the old gal.

"Let's pray it stays that way." Her eyes were filled with both fear and moisture that threatened to become tears.

"Thanks again, Mrs. Halsey. I'm sure the soup is delicious and that my friends will appreciate it, too."

"I wish I could do more," she said, and the boy could see she was being sincere even as she stepped back and hide behind the safety of her doorway. The door shut with a swiftness that belied her age, and Duo had no doubt that she was probably rushing to the sink to scrub her hands clean. He couldn't really blame her, especially after seeing for himself the suffering that came with the disease she was so afraid of.

He turned and walked up the steep staircase, enjoying the warmth emanating from the pot of soup. Reaching the landing above and the door to the apartment, he knocked on the wood with the toe of his boot and the door whipped open. "What took you so long?" Quatre asked, a look of relief spreading across his face. His eyes lowered to the pot in Duo's hands as he entered the room. "What's that?"

He explained where the pot of soup had come from while moving to the kitchenette. Quatre trailed close behind, sniffing the air appreciatively. While he'd been outside, the apartment had gotten dark, so Quatre had turned on the lights, but as the thunder crashed above the building once again, they flickered and went out. It wasn't completely dark in the studio apartment, but it would be shortly.

"Do we have any candles?" Duo asked.

"I don't remember seeing any, but I'll look again." Quatre began a systematic search of the apartment, starting with the kitchen. Meanwhile, Duo put the pot on the stove, lifted the lid and breathed in the steam and aromatic smell of home cooking. Unable to resist, he grabbed a spoon from the drawer and help himself to a taste. It was as good as it smelled.

"No candles," Quatre announced, then frowned at the other boy as Duo pulled the spoon out of his mouth. From his displeased expression, he guessed the blond considered eating out of a pan to be uncivilized. "Why don't you change clothes and I'll dish us each a bowl of soup."

"I will when I get back." Though the wet clothes sticking to his skin made him very uncomfortable, but he had to put up with them for a little while longer. "I'll go back to the hardware store and get some candles."

"I'll go, if you want me to," Quatre offered.

"Nah, I'm already wet. Besides, a little more rain will help get rid of the mud." They both looked down to see the sorry state of his black jeans and jacket Both had clumps of brown mud plastered to them along his left side, where he'd fallen. Quatre's nose crinkled as one large piece of brown muck chose to separate and fell with a wet splat to the floor.

"I'll get it," Quatre said, reaching for a napkin and waving his friend towards the front door. "Go on, but hurry back."

And so Duo found himself out in the storm once more. He ducked his head and bolted towards the hardware store to get the needed candles, cringing every time lightning flashed above him.

A good hour passed from the time he left the apartment until the time he returned. He'd gotten into the hardware store... again, without any problems, snatched up a handful of candles and threw them into a plastic bag. Coming upon some rain gear, he threw it on, hoping it would help stave off the chill that was beginning to set into his bones. On a brown paper bag located beneath the cash register, he hastily wrote a note saying he'd pay the store owner back and put a tally of the things he'd taken on the counter top. He felt somewhat embarrassed that after he'd finished writing the note on the brown bag, water drops and flecks of mud had dropped on it as well. Added to his messy writing, it looked like it had been written by a little kid. Locking up the store once more, he glanced up and was glad to see that even though the dark clouds hovered overhead and the rain continued to fall, the flashes of lightning now seemed more in the distance than above the town. He pulled the plastic hood of the rain poncho over his head and began the trek back through the deserted streets to the apartment.

He left his wet rain gear just outside the entrance then climbed the stairs with the plastic bag clutched in his hand, his teeth chattering and body shivering. He opened the door and found the electricity was still off and the room dark.

"Quatre?"

"Here." The blond's voice came from the area of the sofa bed.

"I got the candles."

"Did you remember matches?"

Ah shit! He knew there was something nagging at the back of his mind, but he clearly hadn't gotten the message that candles needed matches. With a defeated sigh he answered, "No. I'll go back."

"Don't," Quatre snapped back. "We can use the flame from the gas stove to light them. Are you all right?" He must have heard the chattering of his teeth.

"Just wet and cold."

Lightning flashed in the distance, but it gave off enough light for both boys to lock eyes before being pitched back into darkness. "Stay there a minute." The tone of command kept Duo rooted in place. He heard the other boy moving around for a few moments before footsteps indicated that he was approaching him. "Hand me the candles and then take your clothes off. Leave them on the mat outside the door and we'll get to them later," he ordered. "I've got a blanket here to cover you. What do you want first, the soup or a shower?"

"Both," he answered, teeth chattering. He shook the plastic bag so the blond could find him, and as soon as it was taken from his hand he began to unbutton the wet shirt and peel the clinging fabric away from his shivering body. Thinking of how dirty it was, he changed his mind. "I'll take a shower first and then have some soup. Have you eaten?"

"I was waiting for you," Quatre answered. "I don't particularly like eating alone." Duo inwardly cringed, recalling the blond telling him once that he was the youngest of his family and he'd more often than not been left in the care of hired help who served him his meals in the large formal dining room in his father's home. Shortly after having met Quatre and learning that he was the famous Winner heir, he gave up all the misconceptions he'd had about Quatre's privileged life. Sure, the blond boy had probably never been hungry or cold like he had, but he knew the other pilot had suffered a different form of deprivation. From what he'd gathered from their conversations, Quatre craved, yet very rarely received, his father's respect and acceptance. He might not have gotten either of those things from his father, but he'd certainly earned both from his fellow pilots who fought beside him.

By the time he finished undressing, except for his wet boxers, Quatre had several candles lit. He tossed the sodden mess of clothing on the mat outside the door, then quickly shut it. "I'll hurry with the shower. Back in a jiffy." He took the offered candle and made a teeth-chattering retreat into the bathroom.

While waiting for the water to heat up in the shower, he let a fair amount of wax melt into the sink, then placed the candle into it and held it there until it hardened, holding the candle upright. He smiled at the small flame lighting the bathroom.

His shower lasted only as long as it took to wash his hair and do a once-over his body with a bar of soap. He toweled himself off and noticed that Quatre had set a change of clothing just inside the door. Once dressed, he braided the long damp hair and plucked up the candle as he left the room. Quatre was using the candles sparingly, having two lit in the main room. He motioned him to the kitchen and together they ate the warm soup.

"How's he doing?"

"I don't know." Quatre made no attempt to hide his demoralized feelings.

"Hang in there, buddy." That was all he could offer at the moment, wishing for some sort of comfort for himself.

That day, as well as the ones to follow, dragged on in relative silence, which was only disturbed by the quiet moans when Wufei was on the verge of consciousness or the rumblings of their bellies. Each time he awoke the dark, pain-filled sloe eyes turned towoards the window, and both boys attending Wufei stepped back so that he could have a clear view of the few remaining petals on the tree branches just outside. Gently speaking words of encouragement and hope, the two boys watched over their friend and tended to his every need.

Duo sighed deeply as sleep faded and he came to a state of wakefulness. He blinked his eyes open and realized he'd fallen asleep in the chair that was pulled up alongside Wufei's bed and his head had somehow found the edge of the thin mattress to rest on. Raising his head and wincing at the ache that traveled up his spine, Duo squinted at the bright light coming through the window and smiled at seeing the petals he'd glued to the tree branches were still in place, albeit they were in pretty sad condition. The pink petals had bled to a brown color as decay set in. No matter, he thought, Wufei only looked out to make sure they were still there whenever he awoke.

"Duo."

The braided head turned sharply and the violet eyes widened in seeing the boy in the bed looking at him. "Wufei. How are you feelin'?"

After swallowing, the Chinese teen answered in a slow, groggy voice. "Better, I think."

A large smile blossomed on Duo's face. "Holy shit! That's great. Quatre!" Duo searched the room only to see a messy blond head of hair pop up from the other side of the bed.

"What? What's the matter?" Quatre said in a panic, his blue eyes wide with alarm.

"Wufei says he's better."

"Better?" Hope lit the blond's eyes for the first time in days. He scrambled to his feet and almost crawled onto the bed in his eagerness to check for himself the status of their fellow pilot, their friend.

Dark eyes met pale blue, and seeing no sign of pain or fever in those orbs brought an almost blinding smile to the blond's face. "Oh, Wufei, I'm so glad you're on the mend."

Duo reached out and touched both boys' shoulders, feeling a connection, a brotherhood born of a different kind of fighting and of triumph. They had cheated death once again, the three of them.

They waited for three more days, just to be certain that Wufei was indeed on the path to recovery and past the contagious stage, then Duo made his way to Mr. Lembek's again, to use his computer. He emailed Heero that they needed help in getting out of there.

Twelve hours later, Duo opened the front door of the apartment after a slight tap sounded on the wood's surface. With a smile that threatened to split his face, he welcomed Wing's pilot who had, of course, successfully slipped past the quarantine fence and posted security to come to their aid. Hours later, in the dead of night, four shadows, one in the lead and one carried between two others, silently took themselves away from the buildings, the surrounding fields and quarantine fences to Heero's stolen vehicle. Ten minutes later they were climbing into their well hidden gundams.

Wufei, still too weak to walk unaided, was in no condition to fly his gundam, which was the very reason they had called for Heero's assistance. The recovering teen rode with Duo in Deathscythe to the coordinates provided by Heero for the new safehouse.

Hitting the communication button after liftoff, Duo said, "Lead the way, Heero. Quatre's watching our backs."

The braided teen found it was a bit difficult to pilot his gundam with another person sitting on his lap, even though that person was not much of a burden, having lost so much weight during his illness. He was relieved to find flying much easier once they were airborne.

"Roger," Heero answered. "We've got roughly a two-hour flight ahead of us. Let me know if there's a reason for landing." Then in a quieter, concerned tone he added. "Is everything all right?"

Duo grinned. At one time he'd thought Heero an emotionless robot, heartless. That facade, erected through ridiculously strict training, had been chipped away by Heero's interactions with his fellow pilots. Heero's natural sense of kindness leaked through on many occasions, despite his stoic attitude and his perfect soldier facade.

"I'm well enough," Wufei answered. "Just get us to the safehouse."

Once the com was shut off, Wufei settled his head against his fellow pilot's shoulder. "Thank you," he said in a sleepy voice.

"No problem, buddy."

"I mean for saving my life."

Duo chuckled. "I don't think I'm the one to thank. I just did what any friend would do."

"Quatre told me."

"About?"

"Your gluing the flower petals to the tree branches during a thunderstorm. You risked your life for me. I owe you my life."

"Nah, you'd have done the same."

There was a long pause before Wufei replied thoughtfully. "I can only hope I would."

Duo smiled and softly said, "Don't worry yourself about that. I know I can count on you to watch my back, Wu. Now do yourself a favor and go to sleep. I'll wake you just before we land."

The other boy's breathing slowed as he drifted off to sleep. Once he was sure he wouldn't disturb him, Duo moved carefully to set the navigation of his gundam to autopilot, then leaned back in his seat, carefully adjusting the body on his lap to a more comfortable position. He had just closed his eyes when a soft voice reached out to him. "You _can_ count on me. By Nataku, I swear you can."

___________________

Three years later found Duo lying in an L2 hospital. The curtains had been tightly drawn and the lights had been turned off, as he'd requested. He had been rushed to the hospital with an injury he'd sustained at the junk yard, his left hand had been crushed when caught under falling debris. The pain had been more than he cared to remember. It had been one week since then, and he'd just come out of this third surgery. He lay in the hospital bed wondering what the hell he was going to do now. Less than an hour ago, moments after he'd regained consciousness, the surgeon had given him the results of his last surgery.

His injured hand had been beyond saving and had to be amputated.

Even though he'd known it was a possibility, he'd refused to believe it could happen. His future seemed bleak and a dark passage for which he had no idea how to navigate. What could he possibly do with only one hand? He used his hands for everything, for work as well as for his protection. God, what was he going to do?

A knock sounded on the door. Any interest in who might be visiting was blunted by the deepening depression that was taking over him. Lethargically, he turned his head to the doorway as the door cautiously inched opened. In the doorway the shadow of a man stood framed by the bright lights of the hallway behind him. Yes, it was definitely a man standing there, he decided, despite the long coat that could have been mistaken for a woman's dress. "What?" he asked in a dull, disinterested voice.

"I've brought you something."

It took only a moment for him to place the voice. "Wufei?" Duo hadn't seen his former comrade since the end of the last war. The Chinese teens serious lapse in judgment, siding with Deikum Barton, had taken some time to explain to the authorities and was followed by court ordered visits with a psychologist. While Wufei was busy with that, Duo had returned to L2, accepting Hilde's invitation and offer of a job. He had tried to keep in contact with the Chinese boy, but his efforts had been met with silence.

And now here he was, on L2.

Wufei stepped into the room, as quiet as a shadow as he strolled to the bed. "I was sorry to hear of your accident."

"Who told you?" Duo had wanted to keep his current misfortune to himself, not wanting the pity of his fellow pilots.

"I've been watching over you, so to speak."

"Watching me?"

"From a distance," Wufei added, setting something on the table next to the bed. "Why are you sitting here in the dark?"

Looking towards the closed window, Duo answered, "It suits my mood."

"Your hand?"

Duo looked with distaste at the stump at the end of his arm, lying bandaged on the pristine white bedcovers. "Gone."

No sound came from the shadow at his bedside, but with a click of a switch, the light over the bed came on. Duo squinted at the suddenness of it and turned his head to scowl at the other man. "Did you come here to torment or pity me, Wu? Frankly, I'm not in the mood for either."

The other man, now fully visible in the lit room, calmly sat down in the chair next to the bed and pull a long braid of ebony hair over his shoulder, looking as if he had all the time in the world and no place he'd rather be. When those dark eyes shifted to the object that had been set on the table, Duo's gaze followed.

"What the...?" He paused to study the bonsai plant, noting that it had a few additions: little pink flowers that didn't belong on that particular green plant.

"You are not allowed to give up until the flowers fall from the tree."

A memory from the past came flooding back, of how Wufei, lying in a bed, sick and suffering, had wanted to give up and let go, but he and Quatre had refused to let him do so. "My hand isn't going to grow back, Wu. It won't get better, not like you did."

"Your right hand is unharmed, isn't it?"

"But what good is only one hand to a junk yard man like me?"

Wufei leaned forward in his chair, his eyes intent on the man in the bed when he asked, "Is that all you are, a junk man?"

"It's what I was," Duo said dispassionately, his depression seeping in a bit more deeply.

"Then it's time to reinvent yourself."

"Easier said than done, bud," he snapped back.

"No, it's not. You can do anything you set your mind to, Duo. I know you can."

A look of puzzlement entered the long-haired man's eyes. "Why do you care, Wufei? Not even Hilde comes to visit me much. Of course, she's probably busy trying to save the business while I undergo one surgery after another."

With Wufei leaning towards him, Duo could make out the few dimpled scars on his right temple and one on his left cheek, remnants of the debilitating sickness that had struck his friend down during the war. Wufei had struggled for a time to regain his health and strength after that disastrous mission, but gain it back he did, knowing how much his fellow gundam pilots needed him in the fight against OZ. "I care because I'm your friend, and I owe you my life. Whether you want me to or not, I'm watching your back," his friend replied, his eyes filled with determination.

Duo broke eye contact with him and let his gaze slide to the plant, beautifully crafted into the appearance of a miniature, majestic tree.

"This is my favorite banzai tree," Wufei said with a touch of pride in his voice. "It took two years of careful pruning, feeding and training to give this otherwise unattractive shrub its present, more pleasing appearance."

"Two years? That's a long time to work on a funny little tree."

"Some things are worth my time and effort."

Glancing back at his friend, suspicion in his gaze, Duo asked, "Is there a hidden meaning in all of this?"

Wufei reached out and touched his friend's forearm. "You have hit another rough patch in the road that is your life, Duo. I want to be here to help you in any way I can. You are worth any amount of time and effort it will take until you regain your balance and feel both useful and productive once more."

Duo frowned. "Not that I don't appreciate you comin' all this way, but this really isn't any of your business."

"If I were in trouble, I know I could count on you to watch my back. I could do no less for you."

Duo's thoughts shot back to a similar statement, made three years ago when he'd held his recovering friend in his arms as they flew in Deathscythe to another safe house where Wufei could recover from his illness.

They were two men linked by their past and, hopefully, by friendship. It suddenly came to Duo that the strong bond that had been forged between them back then, in that small apartment in the quarantined town. Time had not diminished what they had learned during that time, nor had it erased the strong bonds of friendship. Though he was still scared shitless about the future, uncertain about what his prospects were for making a living and being independent, Duo felt a flicker of hope begin to well up inside of him and it dispelled some of the dark feelings that had almost overwhelmed during the past week. He smiled for the first time in a long time.

Wufei's face softened in response to that smile, and after a reassuring squeeze to Duo's forearm he let go completely and leaned back into his chair. No words passed between them for the next five minutes, none were necessary, at least not just yet. It was clear they had come to an understanding. Wufei would take the lead, for a while at least, and Duo would let him, trusting his friend to help him until he could stand on his own once again.

"Thanks, Wufei, for coming all the way to L2 to see me."

"You're welcome. Now rest. I'll be here when you wake up, then we'll discuss our trip to Quatre's home. He's looking into the research regarding genetic regeneration of limbs as well as other options that will be available to you."

"Is that really possible, the genetic regeneration of my hand?"

"When it comes to Quatre, is anything impossible."

Duo's smile wasn't as confident as Wufei's, but it was getting there, and he found himself beginning to believe his friend when he said everything was going to work out. He eventually fell asleep to the sound of Wufei whispering reassurances and plans for the future. For the first time since the accident, he slept peacefully, secure in the knowledge that his friends were once again watching his back.

The End

Author's note: I sincerly hope this story made sense. I'm not used to writing piecemeal, or editing that way either, but that's the only way I can manage to keep writing. Still, I'm not sure it's working, writing a paragraph or two every other day. It's been a while since I wrote a friendship story, and I'm hoping this one will inspire me to write the end of the DFA series, which is a couple of years overdue. Thanks for reading. I've got a multi chapter story coming up next.


End file.
